RoseAnn V. Shawiak
Parables Of Prose
Rounding out syllables, putting vowels into compromising situations, just to see how they fit together in placements of extraordinary delivery.
Watching as they twist and turn, fitting themselves into workable parables of prose.
Telling intimate stories from memory, progressing slowly into centuries of silent behaviors as secrets are secluded in vast plains of mountainous deserts.
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Comments about this poem (Parables Of Prose by RoseAnn V. Shawiak )
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley
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